Changing Tides
by PlasticBinch
Summary: Murdoc's gone off to jail and the rest band deals with it in different ways.
1. Losses&Changes

Hope was something Stuart saw a lot of lately.

This year had seemed to be a year of self improvement for the singer... well ever since Murdoc was hauled off back to the England to be put in jail.

The vocalist thought they would just be taking another five-or-so year break until Murdoc broke out, escaped, or got out early, but the time could've been used well. 2-D could take more classes back at Oxford, hopefully get that degree he'd still very much like to get.

They all met in the living room unplanned, Noodle was the last one to walk in while Russ and 2-D were watching some garbage television.

"Guys," she was standing by the recliner, with her arms crossed and she had a serious expression on her face.

Both men turned their head.

"Somethin' wrong?" Russel asked.

"Yea, what's up?"

"I think we've got to... talk about the Murdoc situation," she told them, "what are we going to do about it?"

"Well, I was thinkin' we would just stay here for now, I'm not in a rush with leaving, how about you two?" Russ responded.

"I dunno. I guess I'd be stayin' 'ere for a while. I was fhinkin' 'bout going back to England eventually..."

"Well we should probably give it some time,'D," Russel agreed.

"Don't we still have a contract wi' EMI? I forget how he reworked tha'." Noodle nodded, "I don't know, I'm pretty sure he mentioned it before."

"He could have some papers about it in his room... if you'd even want to check his room. If it's anything like how he kept his old RV..."

"Eh," 2-D shrugged, "might just uh...call up Damon 'bout it."

"So we'll be staying together for the meantime," Noodle restated. She sat down on the recliner and let herself relax a bit.

"Maybe we can finally work on an album wi'out having Murdoc bein' controlling with all 'is corrections 'n' shit," Stu chuckled. He had a stupid smile on his face while he laughed at his own joke.

Katsu came into the room from the kitchen. He padded over to the recliner and arched his back, expecting to be pet. Noodle reached her hand down and stroked his back. "...That's a bit mean, toochi," Noodle commented.

"But ehts true!" he pushed back, "if he wasn't as controlling maybe we could get an' album done much faster with even better results!"

"I don't know... maybe he can definitely get too over controlling but I think a lot of his notes can be pretty helpful. We always end up give him some notes too," Russel argued, "even if he can be a bit harsh with some of it."

"Yea, but he doesn't listen to 'em all the time."

"Just drop it for now, 'D. We don't even know what's going to happen right now."

The singer's expression dropped and his eyes gradually became the iconic black once again. Stuart sighed, "...Okay, fine."

No one said anything until Noodle spoke up, "...What are we watching?"

That was pretty much the end of that conversation for about the next two weeks.


	2. Frustrarions&Waiting

"Y'get fifteen minutes, Niccals," the prison guard who worked in his block told the raven haired man as he and another guard let go of him near the phone.

He would have snapped some comment back at him, but he needed to make this call so he held his tongue.

The short prisoner dialed a number, one he still had in his head after so many years. He hoped that it still rang him up, since it had been so long since he had used it last. He could have easily changed it.

He tapped his long, dark nails on the plastic handset.

'Y'bettar not have changed your number' , he thought to himself.

The phone rang once, a second time, a third time, a **fourth**\- it didn't seem like anyone would answer. He tapped his long nail on his thumb on the handset of the phone.

Even if it was the right number, there wasn't any reason for him to want to answer. The prison number would most definitely look like a scam if he had upgraded his house phone at all.

The phone rang a fifth time before there was verbal silence on the other end.

"Er-ah...Ace? It's Murdoc..."

Noodle had checked the mail the week before, unless they were waiting for something important, they let the mail pile up a little.

She had been the first one up and after skimming the week thick pile of envelopes to ensure there wasn't anything for her, until she saw a letter with an eye catching. A big red stamp imprinted on the white envelope that read Wormwood Scrubs, Inmate #24602, their address and her name were also imprinted.

She hadn't answered any of his phone calls. No one did. There were still a lot of feelings that were unresolved with him. And that 2-D seemed to recently stop moping around and became more active.

But she at least checked it to make sure there wasn't anything going on that they actually needed to know about.

She read the first few kinds of the letter after she tore the envelope open with her pocket knife and looked at the letter, reading it in full. It read:

Noodle,

I want my band to continue without me for a while since I don't have an idea of how long this shit lawyer is gonna take getting me out.

I called up a favor from an old mate of mine. His name is Ace Couplar and should get in touch with you soon, hopefully after you look at this. Make him feel welcome, I believe you'll get along well with him.

Thanks for answering all our calls by the by. And, **yes**, jail is good, luckily they've got it great here and I'm taking a Zumba class, a class in music theory, and plenty of free time to continue writing for the next album. I don't even miss our condemned, wreck of a house at this point. This place is like a nice vacation from bullshits there.

Anyways, keep Cortez from mauling Ace to death if you would, and actually answer my calls next time. I'd actually like to know how my band's new album is coming along.

Aaaand-don't get **too** comfy with him, I'll see you lot soon enough.

The one and only,

-Murdoc Niccals

She finished reading and pinned the letter to the fridge with a letter magnet so she'd keep the name in mind and be able to remember it all.

Only a few hours later, Noodle heard her phone buzz as she was working on some art on her computer. She sighed and then slowly reached for her mobile phone.

Caller ID didn't pin down who was calling, all that showed was a number, definitely not a local number for the area around spirit house, but a (917) number.

She answered the call, since she really didn't care if it was a telemarking call, she'd just ask to be taken off their call list or block their number.

Before she could think further about the number, someone on the other end spoke up.

"...Is this Noodle?" A voice queried.

Noodle responded while glancing around the room, not really looking at the room, "Yes this is she."

"I'm assumin' that Murdoc contacted you...?" the man asked.

She was quick to reply, "Yeah, he did, um..."

What was his name again? Noodle wondered.

"I'm only a few hours away, I've got some loose ends to tie up 'ere before I go over to your place."

"It's fine... we're not exactly in a rush with this album," Noodle explained.

"Okay. Well, I'll let you know when I can come over," he agreed.

"That'd be good, I have to deal with Murdoc's room before you get here and that room's a wreck."

He chuckled, remembering how the apartment could quickly become a wreck," I could hardly imagine..."

Noodle sighed, dreading it, "I'll probably get someone else to help. I don't think I can handle it by myself."

"I wouldn't suggest it. Especially since he has access to all the shit that makes it a mess... shit... what's the word. It's gotta do with your money and all that..."

"Financially?" She suggested.

"Yes. That ."

"You're right, it's dis gust ing."

"Some things really don't change."

"Yeah..." Noodle sighed.

There was an awkward lull in the conversation. Noodle decided to end it, "...We'll talk again, soon."

"Have a good night," he told her.

"You too..."

Noodle hung up the phone and then sighed. She had a lot of work to do to make the room somewhat livable and it would be a lot of work.

She walked past the fridge and out the door.

Dinner fell around five that night. They had ordered from some diner that no one really ever objected to since it was usually good and got their weirdly specific orders right.

They sat scattered about the living room in the same general area as the television played some trash tv they for once could agree on watching without the burden of someone disagreeing. It was about some people who work on a yacht that took rich people out on trips. It was garbage tv, but good garbage.

Stuart poked at his salad, looking down at it, trying to find a good looking piece. He tried to figure out how he was going to eat all of it.

He looked up as a fight broke out on the show. Apparently the food was too cold for the guests and the temporary chef was being scolded.

They all were looking at the tv.

Noodle glanced over at 2-D, then at Russel. She took a deep breath and then sighed. When she felt nervous, usually she tried to push through. This time, Noodle felt that she might really upset 2-D. They hadn't mentioned his name since he lost it a few weeks before. She started, "Toochi, Russel. I've got to tell you both something."

Both of the boys turned to face her. She took her gaze from one to the other as she spoke.

"**Well**, it's about, Murdoc ," the guitarist explained, "he wrote us up recently and I just got the letter the other day."

Russel nodded while 2-D stayed silent, just listening and taking in everything.

"What did it say?" The older man asked with a curious-tinged voice.

"To sum it up, he mainly wrote to tell us that he called up an old friend of 'is. Ace Couplar. He's going to be filling in for him as bassist with out next album."

Stuart's face shifted, "We're not making a new album without 'im!"

" Well ... we have to. We all signed the updated contract with EMI. We have to put something out and Murdoc suggested him."

"He didn't exactly think twice about replacing us for his album, D," Russel reminded the willowy man.

"B-but it just doesn't feel right," he argued with a bit of desperation in his face.

"Right or not, we still have to put out a new album or end up in bloody **Dungeon Abby **," she argued.

Russel leaned over to the blue haired man and gently placed one of his huge hands on his shoulder.

" He'll be back eventually, D," he attempted to consul 2-D.

Stuart pulled away from his touch with a jerk. His usually inky black eyes had quickly faded into a white.

"...I don't care," He suddenly raised his voice and snapped, "I know he will, you don't have to go telling me that."

Russel moved his hand away. He tried to comfort his friend during these time.

"Stu-" Noodle started.

2-D slowly stood up from the couch. He didn't bother grabbing his salad as he continued to tell them off. "I don't want to talk about 'im right now. I-I just can't . An' 'is replacement's probably as much of a knob as he is! I don't want anyfhing to do with either of 'em!"

"2-D, you should really-" Russel was cut off.

" No -" he yelled.

"Just-just **sod** off right now! Please. I -I can't fuckin' deal with eht. I'm going to my room and I don't want to talk about fhis-I want to be left alone," Stuart went off.

2-D wasn't met with any more objections as he scrambled upstairs with plenty of creaks from the old wooden steps complementing his stomps. He went to his bedroom and slammed his door.

Noodle and Russel looked at each other back in the living room. Neither of them full understood why he was so emotional over nothing, but then again, they didn't have the same history as 2-D did with Murdoc.

After the dust settled from the outburst, Noodle audibly sighed, "He took it better than I thought."


End file.
